Vivian Sinclair didn't dare to raise her head, her gaze fixed on her toes, her fingers unconsciously clutching the cuff of her pajamas, her knuckles turning white.
Her voice was so soft that it almost dissipated into the air: "Uh... can I sleep with you?"
Alone, she really felt a bit scared.
Tristan Sterling's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, not answering immediately.
His eyes were deep, as if they could see into the softest corner of her heart.
Moonlight slanted in through the gap in the curtains, casting on her.
Her black hair lay smoothly on her shoulders, her eyes clear and clean, like glass washed by morning rain, glimmering faintly.
The loose-fitting lavender pajamas draped over her, the collar slightly slipping, revealing a small, snow-white collarbone.
The pant legs slightly rolled up, revealing slender ankles, the skin glowing like white porcelain, fragile enough to break at the slightest touch.
